


The Art that Always has been There

by spacekathy



Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Unrequited Love, basically just that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:21:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23568259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacekathy/pseuds/spacekathy
Summary: A later summer day between Martín and Andrés.
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín
Comments: 7
Kudos: 73





	The Art that Always has been There

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for checking in! I haven't written anything in a long time, so this is actually my first work in ages. It's currently 2 am at my place and I probably should sleep, but I rather wrote this. Please excuse any mistakes, English is not my first language and I am still trying to improve myself.
> 
> This is very sappy, but I love them dearest and would take a thousand bullets for them.

The warm late summer rays danced gently over Martín's face as he leaned back against a tree that stood in front of the monastery. The wind blew lightly through his hair and let it swing with it. Tones came softly through the air from the gramophone and let themselves be caught by the wind and danced with it.

Martín stroked the page of his book that he had just read - a habit he had with him for some time now. After putting the notes between the pages as a kind of bookmark, he carefully closed the book and looked up. He quickly blinked a few times when a little more daylight came into his eyes after spending hours reading and creating details for his beloved plan. He raised his hand and used it as a sunscreen, then noticed that the sun was already setting and left a series of colours. He let his hand drop again and began to hum softly together with the music.   
Andrés always claimed that the sound of a gramophone sounded more vivid and natural than from any new fashion music box, and Martín couldn’t agree with him more. The clear melody from a record player had something magical, especially in moments like this, in which the sky appeared in strong colours, a warm summer wind accompanied the tones that flew around in the air and Andrés leaned a little further away over a piece of paper and painted on it.

Martín is not a great art connoisseur and only knows his craft superficially and was also certain that not everyone should have the opportunity to call themself an artist. But he was fascinated by every brushstroke that Andrés did, how simple and devoted it looked when he did it. He would like to frame and present every picture that Andrés created, marvel at the ingenuity behind them and look at it until it gets late.

For Andrés, there was a work of art in everything, that got created by love. He often referred to their plan as some sort of art and both of them as its artist. Martín always claimed that he was probably more a genius than an artist, but each time Andrés just replied that he had said exactly that and smirked at the Argentine.  
Moments like these made Martín blush and when he tried to cover it up with a shake of the head, he couldn't wash the smile off his face that still appeared.  
It was moments like these that made it unbearable and bearable to be in love with Andrés and swallow it with a smile every day. Andrés was so close, and Martín only had to say the words that heavy laid on his heart. But just like the sky is everywhere, it is still so far away, and it takes effort to reach it.

Yes, maybe Martin was a coward to hide his feelings, but he preferred to live every day with Andrés’ smile which was decided for someone else, rather than without it. Martín knew that he and Andrés would never be more than friends and sometimes he wished that this was enough of a reason not to love the artist anymore. But life doesn’t work like that.

He leaned against the thick tree trunk and was now watching Andrés' movements more closely and simply enjoying the magical moment. The colours of the sunset enveloped Andrés in a warming cloak. His tanned skin glowed in the reddish light, while the light that caught his eyes brought out the gold in them. Martín gazed dreamily at the picture that appeared before him.

From his position, Martín couldn't see what Andrés was painting on the canvas. He could only watch Andrés’ hand, which was holding the brush with a controlled grip. The Spaniard moved the brush like a magic wand and created another masterpiece, Martín was certain of that.

A long sigh escaped him, and he slid a little further down the tree to find a more comfortable position. Absently, Martín continued to watch Andrés’ movements. A gentle smile graced his lips as Andrés looked up and met the Argentinian's eyes.

"What are you painting, if I might ask?",

Andrés laughed softly at this quick break in silence.

"Something beautiful mi amor."

Martín cocked his head slightly to the side by this but said nothing more. He knew better than to disturbing Andrés unnecessarily while painting. He had no choice but to continue following Andrés' fluid movements.

Martín wondered if that would be his life. To desire for a man, he will never have. Watching him in furtive moments and wishing that all dreams and desires would find a way to freedom.  
Maybe yes, because it’s painful to hope for something that will not happen, but it is more painful to give up something which just means everything to you. Martín prefers to keep his little moments where he can watch Andrés from afar, he prefers to spend the nights with Andrés full of alcohol and laughter than live without his best friend.

And just as Andrés didn't know that Martín loved him, didn't Martín know that the mysterious pictured him.

„You have me. Until every last star in the universe is gone. You have me”

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudo and/or a comment! <3


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